You know, I try to shun poetic fighting

You know, I try to shun poetic fighting,
You know, I need no elegies for fame.
In my opinion, lines can’t be delighting
In spite of people’s blame.

I wish you knew what rubbish could be reason
For rhymes emerging off my conscious edge.
They take their rise from rain in summer season
Or dandelion near hedge.

An angry hail, a heavy resin odour,
An enigmatic mould upon a wall...
The lines appear without any border
For pleasure, not to gall.

Anna Akhmatova, 21st Jan. 1940